Breathe Again
by ariadne melody
Summary: Little by little, they start to rebuild their relationship. 3.17 and 3.18.
1. Chapter 1

**AN**: Um, so it's it been awhile, hasn't it? Apologies about that- writer's block and school have been conspiring against me. This story covers 3.17 and 3.18, and will be at least a two-parter. Reviews/feedback/prompts would be lovely and thanks for reading!

* * *

They used to be able to simply look at each other and know exactly what the other was thinking; Stefan could glance at Elena and know that she needed a hug, a kiss, an escape from the chaos raining down on them. She knew him better than anyone, better than Damon or Lexi, and sometimes it overwhelmed him how they were, how easily she was able to read him. Sometimes she could tell how he was feeling even if he himself didn't really know- it was like that with Elena, everything was clearer.

Now they look at each other and it's unbearably awkward, the gulf of lies and unspoken words between them. They look at each other and aren't quite sure what's real and what's fake, a facade built to protect themselves from getting hurt or revealing too much. He's to blame, he knows that. Stefan's all too painfully aware of how he acts around Elena, how he deliberately makes his voice flat and chooses the harshest words possible, all in an effort to push her away. It's no surprise, really, that Elena's seeking comfort-_love-_-from someone else, but it hurts anyways, seeing her smile at Damon and watching her relax when they talk. You walked away, Stefan reminds himself. You chose this. You don't deserve her. That doesn't help at all, but he can't quite bring himself to stop trying to push her away. If only because she's safer without him.

Still, sometimes Elena looks at him and Stefan almost breaks, sometimes she looks like she still knows exactly what he's thinking.

* * *

Elena awkwardly grips the book and watches Stefan, hating how tight her voice sounds, how tentative and nervous she sounds. At first the blood-bag knocks the wind out of her, just the sight of it makes it difficult for her to breathe because it brings everything back, Stefan the Ripper and the trail of bodies he left behind.

It's different, though, the blood-bag. Stefan the Ripper wouldn't take the time to neatly open the bag and pour some of it into a glass, he would have torn it open and already drained it. Hell, Stefan the Ripper would only drink from blood-bags as a last resort as he made it perfectly clear that he preferred his blood to come from warm bodies.

He's doing it again, she realizes as he deflects her offer of help and starts talking about Samantha Gilbert trying to give herself a lobotomy with a knitting needle. Sounding like he doesn't give a damn how she feels, how his words affect her, sounding like he really doesn't care about anyone at all. Trying to hurt her, trying to push her away.

She hates herself for letting it work, for allowing herself to be pushed away.

There are a thousand words she should say, things she should tell him, but she can't bring herself to, not yet, maybe not ever again. Telling him she loves him used to be easy, it used to be second nature. Now she's terrified of telling him because she's afraid of not hearing him say the words back, afraid that he wouldn't listen even if she shouted them from a rooftop. There was a time when she wouldn't have been afraid; the first time is crystal clear in her mind, watching him walk away and deciding to risk it, stepping out of the car and telling him she loved him despite not knowing how he would react.

She wishes she could be that brave now. Instead she watches him drink blood and just stays with him, watching him carefully as he drains the blood. His hand grips the back of the chair so hard the wood almost splits. He's scared, she realizes, unsure if he'll be able to control himself but determined to try and she loves him for that.

There really are a lot of reasons why she's in love with him.

* * *

Stefan doesn't leave after he forces his blood down Meredith's throat, blindly retreating to the safest place in the Gilbert house even as he curses himself for not staying, for running away instead of helping. Elena checks Meredith's wound and it's already healing, Meredith is slowly regaining a groggy consciousness. She moans quietly and weakly opens her eyes, not really recognizing her surroundings.

"You're gonna be okay," Elena murmurs. She can't focus on anything really, lost in thought about how Stefan had looked at her, how Alaric had smiled coldly at her. She can't think about that, she needs to focus, and she finds her phone, calling with shaking hands and leaving bloody fingerprints behind.

"Please tell me you've got good news," Damon answers, sounding harried and irritated and worried all at once.

The story tumbles out and she doesn't recognize her own voice, how eerily calm she sounds. "Meredith's hurt and Alaric's unconscious and possibly crazy and I don't know where Stefan is and you need to get over here _right now_."

She doesn't wait for his answer. Instead she checks Meredith's wound again- already her skin looks completely normal, as if Alaric had never attacked her. Gently, gingerly, she helps Meredith up and walks her to the guest room where Meredith collapses on the bed, almost instantly falling asleep. She wonders if Meredith had seen the attack coming, how she felt about running away from someone she cared about.

The memory comes back so easily, the man she's in love with coming after her, not caring if she lived or died. Only caring about her blood and consuming as much of it as possible. Stefan as the Klaus-controlled Ripper and Alaric as the Possible Jekyll and Hyde are too similar and she's not sure either of them will ever be able to recover from what they did while they weren't in control.

Damon's there within minutes, more concerned about Alaric than, as he calls Meredith, Dr. Crazy, and Elena can't help remembering the time when Stefan would be the one doing this, asking her if she's all right and moving Alaric to the car.

"He'll be fine," Damon looks at Elena and she looks away. Anywhere except Alaric, unconscious and hurt, his features no longer twisted by chilling cold eyes and a sick smile.

"Will he," Elena mutters. How many times could someone come back to life before he was forever changed completely?

"Elena," Damon grabs her shoulders. "Alaric will be fine. Just fine- hell, if you start losing hope, we are all royally screwed."

She nods, but she can't think clearly right now. Everything is unraveling again, people are dying and getting hurt and she has no fucking clue how to stop it.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Damon's grip on her shoulders tighten.

"I'm fine," Elena says. "I'm fine."

He doesn't look like he really believes her, but he doesn't push her, nodding brusquely and starting to get in the car.

"Stefan was able to control it," Elena tells him quietly. "Meredith was bleeding and he just gave her some of his blood. Whatever you're doing with him is working."

Damon hesitates before saying, "If he was able to control it in there it's because of you, Elena. Not me. The only reason why he's even trying again is because of _you_."

He won't look at her as he backs out of the driveway, leaving Elena standing there shaken and confused. If only she could switch off her feelings because she would pay good money to be numb right now instead of filled with grief and loss.

Elena cleans the bathroom methodically, washing bloodstains away from yet another floor in the house. It takes a while but even after she's finished she knows she won't be able to sleep; she wants to talk to someone but as she looks at her phone she can't think of who to call, who to fall apart weeping to. The two people she'd most like to talk to-Stefan and Jeremy-are the furthest from her emotionally now, the ones she can't call no matter how much she wants to.

She's pulling her bloodstained shirt off when she spots the figure huddled in the window-seat.

"Stefan," Elena gasps and jumps slightly, not expecting to see him in her house let alone her bedroom. "What...I thought you..."

Though she never had heard him leave, hadn't heard him running down the stairs or slam the door. He must have been there the entire time, she realizes, and it's easy to see how shaken he is, how he's completely freaking out and not trying to hide anything. It's the first time she's seen him bare and open in days, months really. His arm is still coated with blood and he's holding it as far away from his body as possible.

"Stay there," Elena tells him and quickly goes to her bathroom, runs water over a washcloth. Her face is ashen and exhausted, her hands are trembling, she looks as shattered as Stefan. When she walks back into her room her heart breaks a little at how he looks and it's almost alarming how much she wants to hold him and kiss him, how hard she loves him.

She eases besides him on the window-seat and takes his arm slowly, pressing the washcloth against his bloodstained skin. Amazingly enough Stefan doesn't pull away, lets her clean his skin. He does duck his head so she can't see the expression on his face, he did that sometimes even when they were together, hiding from her when he was overwhelmed and ashamed. She'd bring him back slowly, pressing against him, whispering and holding his hand, coaxing him back to life. Stefan's so quick to punish himself and it breaks Elena's heart every time. She lightly ran her fingers across the spot where he'd bit himself, not that there was even a hint of a wound there.

"I'm proud of you," Elena tells him softly. "How you acted with Meredith, with Alaric."

Stefan only flinches and Elena tentatively takes his hand. "Stefan..." she trails off, at a loss for words. "Stefan," she repeats, sighing a little as she says his name. She misses him. So much, a physical ache that still leaves her reeling every morning when she wakes up reaching for him, her heart feels incomplete without him and parts of her hates that, hates how much she needs him.

"What you said earlier," she says carefully. "About not being what I wanted-why? I don't... maybe I don't want-,"

"I shouldn't be anything to you," Stefan says harshly. "After what I've done to you? To everyone? I can't ignore that. Believe me, there is nothing I'd like better, but I can't let myself do that."

"So don't. But don't torture yourself," Elena grips his wrist. "You keep acting like you don't care about anything-,"

"If I let myself care, it's too painful," Stefan mutters, his voice cracking. "I told you."

"You've told me a lot of things," Elena points out. "Only I'm not really sure what to believe anymore."

Stefan looks at her and it hits her again, the still raw grief in his eyes, the loss that's written all over his face.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm sorry for what I've done to you."

"I forgive you," Elena tells him, her voice unsteady. "I just wish you could forgive yourself. Stop punishing yourself, Stefan, please, just..."

She leans forward and wraps her arms around his neck, allows her body to lightly press against his. It's ridiculous how her body so easily remembers this, how good it felt just to hold him even though he wasn't holding her, even when he's awkward and nervous and they weren't anything like they were before. Her eyes close and she turns her face into his skin, breathing him in and relaxing against him. She misses him more than ever.

Slowly, painfully so, Stefan brings his arms around her and she nearly cries because even that tiny gesture means so much to her. And really, Stefan holding her is so much more than a tiny gesture. A smile creeps across her face as she folds herself against him, sliding down so she rests against his chest and curls her fist against his heart.

Even as he's holding her and tracing circles on her back, Stefan can't forget. He can't let go of the way he's acted, the things he said that made the light in her eyes die both while he had emotions switched off and afterwards. How he threatened her, tore her neck open, the terror in her eyes on Wickery Bridge. How he practically pushed her into Damon's arms, how he just sat back and let Damon save her countless times.

"It's okay," Elena murmurs and burrows into him. She's already falling asleep. "Stefan."

It's not okay, Stefan thinks, it'll never be okay until Klaus is dead and this nightmare is over. Maybe then he'll be able to pick up the pieces that remain of his shattered life, but until then he can't let himself break. He's crying silently, tears falling into Elena's hair; he misses her like crazy, it's like he's incomplete without her and yet he can't tell her that, he doesn't want to burden her.

Elena's asleep and Stefan would give just about anything to stay there, to become a crazy stalker and listen to her breath, watch her face and memorize every single detail that he already knows by heart. Instead, he gently picks her up and moves her to her bed, covering her with the comforter and making sure her bear's there, the one she can't sleep without. His hand hesitates over her cheek, but he forces himself away, backing slowly out of the room.

He doesn't stop running until he's miles away, when he's crying and heaving, trying to forget everything. He'd almost let go back there, almost broke down and begged her to take him back into her life again, begged to know if she still loved him. More than anything he wants that, to hear Elena saying his name in that way she had, filled with so much love. He wanted to kiss her again, hold her tightly and never let her go.

He shouldn't.

It's no good thinking about what might have been, no good dwelling on what he wanted, not when Klaus is still roaming around causing chaos. Klaus who would want more of Elena's blood, if not now than sometime in the future, Klaus who would stop at nothing to convince Elena to just give up and give herself to him to protect everyone. Klaus who deserved to die an extremely long and incredibly painful death, but really, Stefan will settle for a quick and painless death if it means getting rid of the bastard for good.

* * *

Hearing about the salvaged wood helps. Stefan almost smiles at that, though he's not exactly tempted to join in Damon's cackling because there's no way it can be this simple. No fucking way would they actually catch a lucky break for once. Still, he allows himself to hope that maybe soon Klaus would be dead. Maybe then he could actually work up the courage to confess to Elena how crazy in love with her he still is.

He sips some scotch and watches Damon dart around, waving a glass of bourbon in one hand and clutching the sign like it's a trophy (which it kind of is). His brother has a proud smirk on his face and sounds utterly gleeful, certain that everything will be all right now that they have a weapon. The end is near, in Damon's mind, and maybe this time it really is.

Maybe after Klaus is dead, his body destroyed and ashes scattered, Stefan will look up and find that it doesn't change anything, that he's still lost everything. That he let everything go. He watches Damon and thinks of how Damon was the one people called in a crisis now, Damon was the one who helped Elena move Alaric, Damon was the one to comfort her. Stefan just hid in Elena's room unable to do anything, useless and cowering and barely in control. He flinches at the memory and thinks of how his brother looks at Elena, the care and love that Stefan's terrified of letting shine through that comes so easily from Damon.

Stefan downs another scotch and tries not to think about Elena or Damon. Instead he tries to focus on how to best use their new weapon because it hurts to think of everything else.

* * *

**AN**: I should have Part 2 posted in a day or two.


	2. Chapter 2

She doesn't know why she expects him to be there in the morning, his arms still around her and his lips in her hair. Maybe because last night felt like a break-through of sorts, maybe because he was in her dreams, whispering to her and slipping his hand between her legs while she moaned. A lazy afternoon at his house instead of writing history notes or chasing Originals. An afternoon of sheets and skin. So vivid she can feel his hands on her, his tongue dancing with hers.

When Elena wakes up she's blushing, her heart pounding because every detail about the dream had felt so real, less dream and memory than reality. It hits her every morning how much she misses him, she misses him a little bit more every single day. This morning though, it hurts more than ever because of last night. Or had she only imagined that?

It's still early, too early to actually qualify as morning, and after she checks on Meredith Elena flops on her bed, too restless to sleep although she needs it. Instead she pulls out her phone, even though she knows she'll probably just wind up disappointed again.

* * *

She ending up leaving about a dozen messages and doesn't get a single answer, not even a brusque text to let her know he's okay. It shouldn't bother her as much as it does, but it makes Elena angry, irritated the way Stefan keeps changing on her. Caring and open one minute, the next acting like he doesn't care about her at all. She wants to shake him and demand that he be honest with her again, finally tell her whether he cares or not, which is the facade and which is real instead of him constantly hiding from her.

She's sick of him hiding from her.

"Hey," Meredith greets her when Elena wanders into the kitchen. She already misses Alaric, just the comfort of having someone else in the house, knowing someone was there and the house wasn't completely empty and abandoned.

"Hi," Elena tries to smile. "How are you felling?"

Meredith winces slightly. "I'm okay, but I have this awful headache."

"That's the reaction to vampire blood," Elena tells her. "It should go away soon."

"Well, that's a relief. Just because I treat people with it doesn't mean I know anything about actually taking it," Meredith set her empty glass in the sink. "How's Alaric?" she asks, her voice careful and tight. She crosses her arm and Elena notices how she presses her fingers into her skin, hard enough to leave marks.

"He's..." Elena doesn't know what to say. Alaric isn't okay, he's sick and in danger, and she can't think about it because she'll fall apart and she can't do that now. "I don't know," she answers softly.

"Where is he?" Meredith asks and her voice, soft and gentle, nearly makes Elena cry.

"At his apartment," Elena says. "Damon though it'd be better if he stayed there for awhile." She doesn't add, so Alaric's evil twin won't kill me in the middle of the night. She doesn't have to.

"Hey," Meredith touches her arm. "Elena, I'm going to look for a solution for this, I'm going to try to fix this. It might not be today, but Alaric's gonna be fine, okay?"

But Elena doesn't believe her.

"How long does it take for the ring to affect someone?" she whispers.

"I'm not sure, but the number of times someone dies-"

"Jeremy died twice," Elena glances towards teh stairs. "Damon snapped his neck once."

She can't look at Meredith, but she can feel the woman's cool gaze, can practically hear the question-how the hell can she trust the man who once killed her brother, the one who tried to save her life by shoving blood down her throat without asking what she wanted. The truth is that despite everything Damon's done for her, how helpful he's been the past months, she can't trust him. She's not sure she'll ever be able to really trust him.

She walks Meredith to the door and just before she leaves Meredith says, "Oh, Elena? Tell Stefan thank you, you know, for saving my life."

The house is too quiet without Alaric and no matter how loud the music is it doesn't make up for the lack of people. Elena moves restlessly from room to room, cleaning because it gives her a task, a sense of purpose that makes her focus her nervous energy a little. It distracts her from the silent phone and the empty rooms. For a little while, anyways. She can't face seeing either Alaric or Stefan today; she's horrible, she knows, selfish and frightened and foolish, but she can't picture leaving her house that day, forcing herself to face situations that she only wants to ignore. The fact that Alaric might be dying. The fact that as much as she loves Stefan, they might never be together again. That this might never be over, the Originals will never leave her alone.

She gives herself this one day of hiding away from people. One day is all she needs to recharge, and in the morning (well, before that really, around dinnertime she's more than ready) she's ready to fight again.

* * *

It's early, too early for anything to be open and Elena shivers, staring at the closed sign on the coffee-shop door and thinking how lost she is, how she can't even remember the days of the week anymore. Normal life seems so foreign now; it seems so strange that people can just go about their daily lives, not thinking about blood or hybrids or rings that saved people's lives and made them crazy too. Normal. Her life used to be normal and almost painfully ordinary, now it's not even next to normal. Not even close.

She's walking through the cemetery, thinking she'll kill some time there before getting bagels and coffee for Alaric, and it's actually kind of nice. There's a light mist and the air's crisp and cool, dewdrops coating the flowers left by gravestones and it should be eerie, but it's not. Clearly she's warped beyond repair, that an early morning walk through a misty graveyard makes her feel calm and peaceful, the best she's felt in weeks. Although, maybe it's not so weird; this used to be her favorite time to go there, to find a stone to sit by and write in her journal, spending hours there and feeling like she was the only one in the world awake.

Someone's walking towards her and she's not frightened at all because she knows that walk, the slight duck of his head and the way his hands are shoved into his pockets. She hasn't seem him walk like that in a while, lately his walk's been different, just like the rest of him.

"Hi," Elena says softly when he's close.

"Hi," Stefan says, his voice quiet and a little sad. "How... how are you?"

"I'm..." Elena shrugs. "Sometimes I feel like I'm gonna fall apart."

The words surprise her; she meant to say a quick "I'm fine", not ready to reveal anything about how she's feeling, but she can't do that. Hiding from him has never been easy.

"Me too," Stefan whispers. He blinks quickly like he's trying to keep tears from falling. "How's Meredith?" he asks quickly, his voice trying to mask what he's feeling.

"She's okay," Elena tells him. "She says thank you, you know for the blood, for...what you did. You saved her life."

Stefan shrugs awkwardly and looks at the ground. He's never been one to be comfortable with thanks and now it's even worse, now he feels like he doesn't deserve anything at all because he's caused so much pain.

"I called you," Elena says carefully and Stefan bites his lip. He played her messages repeatedly yesterday, listening as her voice became more strained and hating himself for not calling her back.

"I know," he mutters. "I'm sorry. I... I was helping Damon."

"Oh."

He hates how she sounds, resigned and sad and a little lonely. "I felt like I couldn't call you, that I almost lost control with you that night and I had to stay away."

At first he doesn't realize he's spoken, thinking that he wishes he could tell her why he's ignored her and insulted her, continued hurting her despite loving her more than anything when she says, "How did you almost lose control with me?"

When he doesn't answer Elena steps closer until she's almost touching him. "Stefan, please. Just talk to me."

If only it could be that simple.

"Do you mean with the blood-no," Elena says slowly. "Stefan, why did you go to my room?"

Emotions flash across his face and his eyes darken, he can hardly bare to look at her as he confesses, "Because I feel safe there."

Elena exhales softly and he has to look away because it's too painful to look at her and not fall to pieces and beg her to take him back, cling to her and plead for love and forgiveness.

"You could have stayed, you know," Elena tells him in a shaky voice. "You could have stayed with me."

"No," Stefan whispers. "No, I couldn't have."

"Why not?" Elena's voice becomes harsh with the tears she's trying to hold back. She holds his face and forces him to look at her. "Stefan, I forgive you, I lo-"

"Because it's too dangerous,"Stefan breaks in. "Because Klaus is still alive."

He doesn't mean to say it like that. He means that he didn't protect her enough, that he hasn't protected her and loved her enough, that if it wasn't for him Elena probably wouldn't be in any danger. when they were dealing with the upcoming sacrifice Stefan hadn't done nearly enough to protect her, had always known that Damon would be there, loving her and protecting her in ways Stefan never could.

"Do you love me more than you hate Klaus?" Elena asks quietly.

_Yes_, yes, a thousand times yes. He's never loved anyone as hard as he does Elena, but he can't tell her that, not yet.

So Stefan takes the coward's way out yet again and walks away.

Elena seriously wishes she could give Stefan a truth serum or compel him or something because she's more than irritated by the half-truths and lies he's telling himself.

She walks to her parents' graves (John and Jenna were there too) and stops, frowning to herself. There were fresh flowers in front of each of the graves, flowers she couldn't identify in gorgeous shades of blue and red, deep color that remind her of the lapis lazuli stone that protect her friends from sunlight and the red stone in her necklace. They're obviously fresh, obviously just left there.

She hasn't been to their graves in weeks, she hasn't had time and there's no one else she can think of who would have bothered. Except the man who just walked away from her.

It doesn't take long for Elena to get to Alaric's place. Stefan had warned them, figuring that was why she was wandering around town so early and it was like Elena to worry and mother her friends. He's kind of surprised she hadn't shown up yesterday armed with soup and other things to try to cheer up Alaric.

Both Stefan and Alaric look at Damon when the knock comes and Damon rolls his eyes and calls them wimps, but there's a small smile on his face too. It's downright painful to listen to the ease with which Damon talks to Elena, to picture the spark in his brother's eyes as eh tosses out the word love. Stefan grips a stake so hard that Alaric snatches it away, afraid he'll break it and then they'd have one less weapon against Klaus, one less chance to finally, finally end this nightmare.

"She misses you, Ric," Damon tosses the bag of bagels onto the table and sets the coffee down. Two cups. Elena must have been planning on staying. "Apparently you were a decent roommate."

"Well, I did do the dishes sometimes," Alaric mutters. He's watching as Stefan snaps the pen in half and then realizes what he's done, looking guilty about it. "She's lonely."

"Yeah, well, if this works than Jeremy can come home and you can all go back to family dinners and movie marathons," Damon picks up a stake a looks at it thoughtfully.

"Oh that'd be great, the three of us eating turkey and for desert I try to kill them with a carving knife," Alaric mumbles.

"So you killed a couple of people. Get over it," Damon tells him. "I for one am not wasting time crying over Bill Forbes."

"You do realize I tried to kill Elena?" Alaric asks icily. "And you might be used to killing people-actually, scratch that, you _enjoy_ killing people. I don't. Now can we get on with this already?"

It hadn't exactly been pleasant before, making stakes and awkward small talk, but the atmosphere cooled considerably after Elena's attempted visit. Even long after she left it's like she's still there, her shadow standing between Damon and Stefan as they exchange clipped words and Stefan hates that, the past coming back to haunt them. The if-onlys play on a continuous loop in his mind, if only he hadn't left, if only Damon had never followed him, but he forces himself to focus on the gleaming white stakes and slowly he relaxes as he counts them, double and triple-checking the numbers.

This has to work.

* * *

His hand is so close. It's right by hers, barely an inch apart and it's all Elena can think about. It would be so simple to grab onto it, interlace her fingers with his and bring his hand to her lips. Such a small gesture, such a simple gesture. If only he wasn't acting this way, like he doesn't want to hear her opinions at all.

She wonders what would happen if Damon died. How long would it take for Stefan to break completely, shatter into tiny fragments that would never be able to be put back together again no matter what. Especially if his brother died and Stefan had had a chance to save him. Stefan would never be able to forgive himself and he probably would either go on some crazy rampage or give up completely.

She lets him think he has the final word, lets him walk away, and then strides after him and grabs his arm, makes him turn around and look at her.

"What," he asks flatly, his eyes hard and cold.

For a moment Elena doesn't say anything, staring at the tension in his jaw. The way he's hunching a little bit and biting his lip, his fist clenched so his nails dig into his skin and tiny drops of blood appear like stains. She knows him so well, even after everything can read him better than she can read herself. For all his bravado and uncaring facade, the thought of his brother being tortured clearly frightens the hell out of Stefan even if he can't tell her. Even if he can't admit it to himself.

"You never stop trying to save people," Elena murmurs quietly. She kneads the fabric of his jacket and whispers, "Even if you tried to stop I don't think you'd be able to."

Stefan barely moves, she can see him biting his lip again and wonders if it hurts. If he'll ever stop hurting.

Finally he lifts his head, his eyes still focusing beyond her as he mutters, "We need to get ready if we're gonna pull this off, if we're gonna have enough time..."

It's not much. It's barely anything, but it's enough for now.

* * *

After Klaus turned off Stefan's emotions Elena avoided his room. Walking by and seeing her favorite room only made everything worse, shattered her heart yet again with the memories of waking up entwined in Stefan's arms.

A soft smile comes across her face as she stands in the doorway. Watching him in his room again fills her with warmth.

"You scared me today," she tells him, taking a step into the room.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs and looks at her. "You know what I realized today? How I've let myself get wrapped up in this, how I've let it control me. I let Klaus take everything away from me, everything I care about."

Elena stands perfectly still, dead certain he can hear how fast her heart is beating and how she can barely breathe.

"I lost everything," he murmurs. "I love you and I-"

"I love you too," the words tumble out, she's practically stumbling over them. "I never stopped."

"I never stopped either. Even..." Stefan trails off and they're thinking of those nights, in the gym and on the bridge. Those nights that both want to erase.

Somehow they're standing close together and then he's touching her, actually cupping her cheek and Elena closes her eyes, almost purring with delight at his fingers on her skin.

Then he's talking about Damon and her eyes pop open.

"Tell me you don't feel something for Damon," he whispers, his eyes filled with pain.

She can't breathe again for all the wrong reasons. Slowly she admits, "Stefan...I don't know what I feel about him."

His face falls ad he looks as though he's been stabbed with a vervain-soaked dagger, but what comes after that is even worse, the look of resignation like he's known all along. And maybe he has, maybe he knew long before she did. He breaks away from her and turns away, hand shaking as he runs it along the spine of books.

"I don't know what I feel about him," Elena murmurs, almost to herself. "He killed my brother right in front of me, he's killed Alaric probably more times than either of them will admit to me. He snaps if I say something that comes out wrong of hurts him. And he helped me this summer, he helped all of us. He listened while I babbled on about you and he... he was here."

She hesitates before walking over to Stefan, placing her hands gently on his shoulders. Breathing deeply, trying to inhale him she whispers, "I love him, but I'm not in love with him. I'm in love with you."

Stefan's shaking now and she can hear the tears he's trying so hard to hold back as he says, "You should be with him."

"I don't want to be with him," Elena says, her voice louder.

"He's better for you, he can protect you-"

"Stefan," Elena wraps her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "I _love_ you, I want _you_."

"No," he whispers.

"Stefan," she whispers. "Come back."

Elena forces him to turn around and the look in his eyes, wild and desperate and lost, makes her cry. Letting her breath out in shuddery gasps she traces his face, lingering on his lips before cupping his cheeks while she leans up and kisses him softly. Instantly an electric charge flies through her body and she's pressing against him, her body flooded with a million memories of doing just this, kissing him, being with him, loving him.

He slowly kisses her back, his lips gradually responding to hers and then they're both crying, tears coating their lips. It's coming home, it's becoming complete again, it's _them_, Elena and Stefan.

It's too much and not enough all at once; Stefan slides down her body, collapsing at her feet and hugging her legs, sobbing against her and it's all Elena can do to let him cry, let his tears stain her jeans and cry with him, mourning the time they've lost, mourning the shambles their lives have become.

Eventually Elena manages to pull Stefan to the bed and makes him sit down while she pulls his shoes off and kicks her own off. When she curls around him her arms instantly wrap tightly around him, slipping her hands beneath his shirt and kneading his skin. He's holding her so tightly that soon it might be difficult to breathe, but for now she needs this, they both need this. Already his fingers are grasping her hair and she wriggles even closer.

"It's late," Stefan murmurs, his voice low and think and it makes her shiver.

"You gonna kick me out?" Elena kisses his forehead. "Because that is so not gonna happen."

"Good," Stefan peeks up at her. "Because I want you to be here when I wake up."

"I'll be here," Elena kisses his forehead again and she can't help it, she finds his lips and kisses him again.

They fall asleep together, holding each other so tightly that even if they other wanted to move (which neither one does) they wouldn't be able to and both of them are more than okay with that.

* * *

For a while, Elena had always managed to wake up before Stefan, just because she liked to watch him sleep. Not that she would actually admit that to anyone; she knew how stalkerish and freaky it sounded, how obsessed she was. Granted, Stefan had figured it out pretty quickly and teased her about it, making her blush and hide her face in his chest while she groaned and he laughed. She liked watching him sleep, how he let his guard down the way he only did when he was with her.

She watches him now. He looks different, older and thinner, as if the past few months haven't just shaken him but aged him as well, and she knows it'll take time before he's ready to forgive himself and maybe it'll be ages before she sees a real smile from him. Even in his sleep he still appears guarded and she leans in and plants a small kiss on his cheek, tilts her forehead against his.

"I love you," she whispers, closing her eyes briefly.

When she opens them Stefan's awake and watching her, and a light smile spreads across her face. "Good morning," she murmurs and traces his jaw.

Stefan looks at her, almost like he's afraid that this is a dream and she's not real, she's just a figment of his imagination that will vanish the moment he says anything. His arms tighten around her and Elena shifts them so he's half-lying on her, relishing the weight of his body on hers. Their eyes lock and it's hard for her to breathe, hard for her to think of anything coherent at all except how he's looking at her. Slowly, he tilts his face towards her and kisses her, gently and slowly at first before building, becoming rougher and heated and Elena rolls them over, looping her legs around his waist. She digs her fingers into his hair and barely stops kissing him long enough to catch her breathe before starting again, they're kissing like they'll never stop, they have so much to make up for.

Then he's breaking away from her, gasping like he's in pain and she doesn't have to see his face to know what's happened. He's kneeling at the foot of the bed, his shoulders shaking and Elena crawls to him, draping herself around him even as he tries to tell her to leave.

"I'm here, Stefan," she whispers. "I'm not going anywhere."

She holds on to him and rubs his neck, murmuring quietly to him, trying to soothe him and bring him back to her. It's agonizing waiting for him to turn to her (although it's not long at all, maybe fifteen seconds at most) and he only looks at her after the vampire face is hidden again.

"I'm sorry," Stefan whispers. "I'm so sorry."

"I love you," she whispers again because it's the only thing she can think of saying.

She shifts so he's sitting against her, his body in between her legs and his face against her chest, she cradles him and kisses him and he grips her shirt, still breathing shakily.

"I love you," he whispers. "I love you so much."

"I know," she tells him.

Then Damon comes into the room. His eyes sweep over them, taking in how Elena's holding Stefan and how his little brother suddenly seems so much younger. Elena's arms around Stefan, her hands lightly rubbing back and her head tilted down towards Stefan, how tight her arms are around him.

"We need to talk," he says roughly. "We've got a stake to look for."

Elena barely glances up at him. "Okay," she murmurs. "Give us a minute."

"Stefan?" Damon asks.

Slowly, Stefan glances at his brother. "A minute," he repeats so softly Elena can't hear him.

When Damon's gone they look at each other, and Stefan nearly breaks when he sees the compassion in Elena's eyes, the softness and love there; he wonders how in the world he held out so long against her. Still, he's half-convinced that this is a mistake, that he'll only end up hurting her worse than ever, but Elena gives him a look that tells him she knows exactly what he's thinking and she takes his hand, refusing to let go as they leave the room and walk down the stairs.

They stop on the landing to kiss softly, and then Elena leans into him and presses him against the wall, slipping her hands beneath his shirt and moaning quietly when he pulls her hips into his. A sound that's a cross between a groan and laughter escapes his throat and the look she gives him is worth a thousand kisses.

They look at each other and it's never been clearer that this, arms around each other and foreheads tilted together and breath ragged and filled with desire, is where they're meant to be.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN**: I am so sorry about the delay, and this chapter isn't that much really. The next (hopefully better) chapter should hopefully be up much sooner.

* * *

She wakes up reaching for him, her hand inches away from his arm and even as she stretches towards him she knows he's not sleeping peacefully, it's clear from the expressions flickering across his face. Rolling closer so she's pressed against him, Elena rubs Stefan's shoulder, hoping that her touch will help him in some way, bring him at least a little comfort. Part of her is still surprised that when she wakes up reaching for him she can simply stretch her hand and there he is, close besides her and still not close enough. Stefan's back in her arms, her bed, her life, but it's not the same as before, before when she wouldn't have to reach for him because he'd be holding her so tightly as if he never wanted to let her go even for an instant.

Soon, she hopes, they'll be like that. Soon he won't be afraid around her, scared of losing control and hurting her or worse, being in control and still hurting her.

Sighing a little, Elena traces patterns on his shoulder and closes her eyes. The past day with Stefan had felt like a gift, even if they had spent most of it with searching for the dagger and finding nothing; yet at the end of the day she didn't have to return alone to her house feeling like a ghost wandering through an abandoned home. Stefan had cooked (she'd forgotten how much she'd missed that) and she couldn't stop touching him, afraid that he was merely a figment of her imagination soon to vanish to leave her alone with only memories and shadows.

He shifts besides her and she feels his arm snake around her waist, his hand resting lightly on her back as his lips press against her forehead. Even this, the little light kiss, makes her shiver and she opens her eyes, meeting his, and for a moment it's like nothing's changed between them at all.

"Morning," Elena whispers, a silly smile tugging across her face.

Stefan ducks his head a little and Elena laughs as she rolls them over so she's staring down at him, her breath caught in her throat as he looks up at her with that look. Slowly, her lips find his and all thoughts fly from her head as his tongue attacks her and the familiar heat rushes through her body. A heavy moan escapes her and his hands tug at her tank top, her hips rocking gently against him.

Then it happens. Against her lips she feels his teeth sharpen and the now familiar sound of his face changing forces her eyes to spring open to meet his own panicked-filled, blood-tinged eyes. He pulls away in an instant, but he doesn't try to hide his face this time (progress, albeit not much, Elena thinks).

"Sorry," he mutters after a moment after his face has returned to normal. Only then does he touch her again, his hand tentatively grazing her arm.

Elena pulls him back to her, settling his head on her chest and cradling him close, tugging lightly at his hair. Taking a chance, she knows, her heartbeat so close to him, her blood practically calling to him.

"I missed you," she tells him simply. "Being with you, obviously..." a blush spreads across her cheeks. "Even just sitting next to you in French class, I missed that."

Stefan's hand slips into hers and she continues, her voice soft and nearly a whisper. "I missed just talking to you or, you know, not talking...Sometimes with others I find myself just needing to fill the air with words even if it's just, I don't know, talking about shoes or something-not that shoes aren't important and yes, I desperately need a new pair and yes, you are welcome to help me with that project."

Good, she thinks as a lazy smile begins to spread across his face.

"Sometimes I forgot-I'd be reading and then I'd wonder what you thought about the book, if when you read it the same things jumped out at you or bothered you. Or I'd see an ad for a movie and know that I wanted to see it with you. I think I must have planned a million dates, thought of a thousand lame excuses to invite you over. I'd think about restaurants to try or places to visit-take a college trip with you, maybe check out all the schools you went to. I'd pick up the phone and then..." she stops, realizing what she's about to say, the harshness of the words that she needs to say and still doesn't think that she can really say them, not to him, not now. He doesn't need to hear that, not now when everything is so fragile when the balance between them is still off-kilter and both of them recovering from aching wounds.

Stefan shifts so he's looking up at her, eyes so green and deep, eyes Elena knows by heart and still can't look away. He strokes her cheek, letting his finger slip down her neck to ghost across the scar. "And then," he prompts, a hitch in his voice as he bites his lip.

"And then I'd remember," she says reluctantly. "That Stefan-the one who brought me flowers or made sure I could still laugh-he was gone," her voice cracks a little. "I'd remember that the Stefan I knew had become someone I didn't know at all."

She digs her fingers into his hair, grasping it tightly. "When we spoke, sometimes it was like talking to a stranger and sometimes it wasn't and that almost made it worse. It hurt talking to the Ripper, but not as much as afterwards, because I knew you could care and you-you didn't want to and I hated you for not allowing yourself to feel. I was jealous because you wouldn't let yourself feel and I felt so much."

Tears, hated tears, stream down her face, leaving ugly trails behind that burn into her skin. "I tried so hard to let you go, to just give up and move on," Elena whispers. "But I couldn't because I watched you take the easy way out by giving up, and I knew I couldn't do that. Half the time I thought I was delusional and completely fuck-up, just a weak little girl who couldn't let go of a ghost. Maybe that's all I am, a weak little girl lost in a fantasy."

"Elena," Stefan makes her look at him, cupping her face, fingering her tears. "You are the strongest person I know- I love you so hard, I am so sorry for what I did to you-I know that's not enough, it will never be enough to say I'm sorry."

That only makes her cry harder and she buries her face in his chest, mourning the lost months and how nearly all of them are broken now, how everyone's lost so much and almost surely because of her. Then she hears him, his quiet whispers, his voice against her skin, words that she can't quite comprehend but that comfort her just the same, make it easier to look up at him and face the world. She's a mess, she knows it, wild hair and puffy, red face and honestly, if it were anyone other than Stefan she'd duck away. Because it's Stefan she can't hide.

He plants delicate kisses on her face and neck, hesitating only a moment before kissing the faint scar, his tongue lightly running across it as if to erase the memory of the last time his mouth was in that spot. Slowly, he rolls them over so she's pressed against the mattress, her heart in her throat because there's so much fire and heat in his eyes, passion she hasn't seen in ages. Their lips meet and she nearly falls apart from the intensity, her body limp as his hands skirt beneath the hem of her (his) shirt, trace her hip and curve around her thigh, dance up to her breast, squeezing and stroking her skin.

When it happens this time she doesn't let him pull away; when the fangs and veins appear, his eyes filled with blood and darkness Elena holds him close to her even as he begins to shake.

"Stefan," she murmurs. "I love you."

She runs her fingers over his face, tracing the foreign ridges and bumps, gently smoothing the skin that is so familiar to her and yet different every time. Slowly, knowing he's freaking out (it's written all over his face), she kisses him, a wet, open kiss, her tongue darting out to skim the fangs.

Ever so slowly, gingerly almost, Stefan kisses her back and Elena smiles, knowing he can feel that smile. Her hands dance about, skimming across his back and pulling his tank top up, and then his hands begin to move about her body, the dance beginning again.

"Just ignore it," Elena moans when his phone rings. "Ig-," His lips find hers and she doesn't finish the sentence, the phone becomes a distant memory as the kisses become sloppy and deep, her legs wind around his.

When the phone rings again (hers this time), Stefan doesn't even say anything, he just rolls them over and her legs fall apart as she arches into him. His eyes meet hers and she swears there's a smirk on his face, a certain cockiness in his eyes as he makes her fall to pieces.

Only when they hear footsteps on the stairs do they stop, but they're still tangled together when Caroline bursts into the room, phone pressed to her ear, the worried expression that quickly becomes one of glee and embarrassment.

"Um, Damon?" she says. "Forget that last bit. They're totally, completely fine. Better than fine."

Stefan rolls his eyes as he sits up and takes the offered phone as she explains, "Damon was convinced you'd both been kidnapped because you weren't answering your phones. Paranoid much?"

Elena raises an eyebrow as Damon's irritated voice permeates the air and Stefan winces even as he gets up, brushing a kiss across Elena's hand before walking out into the hallway, his voice tight and low. Even though she knows he's coming back, that this is only a little lull, she hates to see him walk away, still smarting from all those times when he walked away and didn't look back.

"Elena!" Caroline's practically doing jazz hands. "When were you going to tell me? When did this happen? Who else knows? How did it happen, I need details, footnotes even, and I don't just want the short version."

"Um, it happened a day ago, really," Elena laughs a little because it's so strange and new. A few days ago she wouldn't have thought that Stefan would even be close to kissing her again, let alone...her face heats up just picturing the look in his eyes a moment before. "Sorry, I just... no one knows, really. I guess I just wanted some time, you know? Time for us to just... get back to being us."

"And I totally get that-support that, completely, one-hundred percent, but we're still in crisis mode and that means answering your phones unless you want people to completely freak out," Caroline says and then her face clouds over. "I guess that explains it." At Elena's questioning look she sighs and explains, "Damon. He was being more... Damony than usual on the phone. yelling at me for no apparent reason, telling me how stupid I am and ordering me around like he's some kind of drill sergeant."

"I'm sorry, Caroline."

"That's kind of been our relationship-at least now he can't compel me," Caroline shrugs. "Although it's not like he's so great at running things- I would pay good money to see him put together a dance," she laughs a little. "Anyways. How's Stefan? I feel bad, I've been avoiding him ever since... well, you know, and he's done so much for me, I should have... well, I shouldn't have avoided him."

"I was avoiding him too, mostly," Elena glances at the not quite shut all the way door. "He's recovering. He's still shaky, quiet. Quieter than usual, I mean. He's not back yet, and I don't know-he thinks he can't go back to who he was, but... maybe he can't, but it's not like I'm the same person either."

"None of us are. Fucking Originals," Caroline sighs. "Seriously, if either of you need to talk or anything, I'm here. Well, I'm not always great with listening, but I make some damned good pep talks."

"Yes, you do. And thanks, Care, seriously," Elena hugs Caroline tightly. When she looks up Stefan's leaning against the doorframe, the frown on his face falling away when her eyes meet his.

"Well," Caroline gets up and retrieves her phone. "I have a million and one things to do for the dance including finding the perfect dress and hunting down some decent decorations because the ones we have are so not even close to my standards. So yeah, answer your freaking phones and tell Damon that I'm not a messenger, I'm trying to coordinate the perfect dance which you two better be attending."

She gives Stefan a tight hug before waving, a pleased smile on her face when he hugs her back.

The spell seems broken now that someone else has actually been there, but that's okay, really.

"Hi," Elena murmurs, suddenly shy, aware of how her hair is mussed and her shirt's falling off.

"Hi," Stefan walks over to her and she leans against him, pressing her forehead against his stomach.

"We have to actually go out and do stuff, don't we," she asks, although it's really not a question, not from the look on his face as he came back to the room or the frantic way Damon had tried to reach them.

Stefan fists some of her hair and lets it slide between his fingers. "Alaric and Damon want to meet-believe it or not, the stake is still missing and Klaus is well, making sure that everyone knows he's unhappy."

"Isn't that what he normally does?" Elena grumbles.

"They want to meet us at noon-Ric wants to check one last place before we meet."

"Okay," Elena brushes her lips across Stefan's hand, placing lingering kisses on each of his fingers. "But we don't have to go anywhere just yet."

Not that Stefan was thinking about moving.


End file.
